Miranda Jimmy
This post is part of a series. See the other entries here.
![Photo of a typed passage. It reads "Anecdotes by Ruth Fadum. G[redacted], Ward 5A, a little girl was in a body cast. She had T.B. of the spine. She was in a crib with a cover on to keep her in it. When Governor General, The Rt. Hon. Mr. Massey visited, she quietly looked at him, with her mischievous eyes, and he said, "I'll bet you're a holy terror when I'm not here." This was so true because she found all kinds of ways to lower the side of her crib and get out. [Redacted] was sent down from..." The remainder of the text is cut off.](https://i0.wp.com/activehistory.ca/wp-content/uploads/2025/11/Provincial-Archives-of-Alberta-PR-1991-0443-21-redacted-1.jpg?resize=625%2C250&ssl=1)
Last year I was invited to the Owning History: Indigenous Histories and Records Access Conference organized by Dr. Mary Jane McCallum at the University of Winnipeg to talk about my experiences working with residential school survivors and their loved ones to access archives. As one of the only non-academics in the room, I titled my presentation, “Novice Navigator: Tales of My Time Breaking Down Barriers in Public Archives,” to reflect how I situated myself as a curious disrupter within institutions of colonial memory. Having spent more than a decade in public archives looking for the truth about my family’s history, and supporting other Indigenous community members in their searches, it has become very clear to me that public archives are withholding information from those who need it the most in order to preserve a heroic vision of Canadian history premised upon deeply racist beliefs about Indigenous Peoples. An obvious example of this is how many First Nations, Inuit, and Métis people remain unnamed in photographs and historical narratives while lengthy lineages exist for their white counterparts.
My volunteer work has primarily been centered on publicly held records related to residential schools and Indian hospitals in government and private records, working well outside the confines of academia and blurring the lines between living memory and documented proof. The more I looked, the more obvious the intention to hide the truth was, both in the records that existed and in the ignorance of the people who manage those records to do so in a responsible way that presents a balanced understanding of the past. I feel the need to learn what I can about archival practices and processes to help the people who needed the information – survivors and their loved ones – and figure out how to infiltrate the system that was keeping the information from those who needed it most.
As I reflect further on archives and western approaches to historical research, it is clear that institutions of colonial memory are consistently used against Indigenous Peoples as a weapon. This unjust weaponization comes from what is considered accurate information, who has access to its collection, management, and manipulation, and who has the right to challenge its validity. When it comes to representation of Indigenous Peoples in the archives, the responsibility of ‘the what’ and ‘the who’ has often rested solely within documentation obtained from colonial governments and their agents.
Continue reading
